Demons
by carinims01
Summary: Merlin has always had nightmares. He understood their terrors more than most, having lived hundreds of lifetimes. The only difference now is that he doesn't have to face them alone. Sequel to Remember Me. No slash. Rated T for implications of character death and language.


Disclaimer: IDOM

Hello! Wow, this certainly took some time, didn't it? For that, I apologize. I got caught up with school and work and _life. _Great news though: I'm officially graduated! From high school, mind you. But either way, I'm a 2014 graduate! Woohoo! Anyway, I do feel guilty about not updating _something_ to let you guys know I'm still alive, so here's this. :) Special thanks to my wonderful beta, CaptainOzone!

As a sidenote, this one-shot takes place maybe... a month or so after the final events of Remember Me.

Enjoy:

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**Demons**

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Weeks passed; Autumn set in. The leaves changed from a vivid green to a handful of sundry colors whilst the winds picked up and the temperature dipped. The cool polar air moved southwards, following the sun, but it was met with the warm ocean air coming from the Atlantic, producing a very unsettled season for the country. Patches of fog were common for this very reason, and frequent rainstorms were the norm, often evolving into thunderstorms.

It was during late October that a particularly severe thunderstorm occurred, one that brought powerful thunderclaps to shake the very earth and small hailstones to _clink _against the wet pavement.

The storm also carried nightmares on its back, and it wasn't in any way merciful toward a sleeping warlock, who was distinctly known for his night terrors, especially when the night was indignant and charged with boundless energy.

_"You have to run!" _

Merlin clenched his eyes shut, his slender fingers unconsciously curling around his bedspread and pulling it up round his slim shoulders. His flesh was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his brow furrowed as he muttered responses to the voice in his mind.

"Run. You have... you have to..."

_"Run! Get to the boats!"_

Agony ran through him, the likes of which he hadn't felt in a long time, and he curled in on himself, wincing. A wet nose nuzzled his face, and Iris whined, but the warlock only imagined cold rain pouring down from the heavens.

_"We're not leaving you behind, Merlin. Now shut it."_

The lab barked, but Merlin's mind only registered it as a clap of thunder; he rolled the other way. "But I... I..."

_"I can't stop them all! You have to go!" _

Thunder clapped overhead, shaking the flat's very foundation whilst hail the size of coins bounced off the windows, the unrelenting _click_ing sounding, to the sleeping warlock, very much like the sharp clash of steel.

_"Then do your best, you numbskull! Between the three of us, surely we can defeat a few bandits?"_

There was a flash of swords in the dark and a whir of arrow tips in the wind. Nevertheless, dream-Merlin felt a small smirk on his face, while in reality, the warlock painfully grimaced into his pillow, knowing the inevitable.

"Merlin!"

And, mercilessly, the warlock was forced to watch as his two friends fell: a double-edged sword to the gut and an arrow to the heart. Merlin knew he was next. As soon as he felt the silver blade of some rotten-toothed bandit pierce his lower torso, unbearable heat rushed through him, and he screamed, his magic wrapped around him, exerting itself to the point of exhaustion as it cradled his broken body. The scenery changed, and suddenly he was in a clearing, holding a dying Arthur in his thin arms.

_"No, Merlin...Everything you've done. I know now. For me. For Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build..." _

"Merlin!"

The scenery changed again: he was in a forest, looking up into Arthur's passionate blue eyes, his lifeblood rushing out of him through a hole in his abdomen. The warlock felt his friend's leg on his back, supporting him as he struggled to breathe.

_"You're going to be alright. Please, Merlin, you _have _to be alright. _You have to be._ I've only just got you back."_

"Merlin! Wake up!"

He cringed, whimpering softly as three words ran through his head._ Finality._ That's what they brought with them. _Three words_. Said by him and his best friend when either of them were so close,_ too close_, to the dark veil of death.

"_Stay with me. Stay with me. Stay with me." _

"Damn it, Merlin! Please!"

A firm hand was set on his shoulder, jerking him awake. His eyes, tinged with delicate flakes of gold, flew open as he shot up, screaming in pain and fear. Nausea and dizziness coursed through him immediately, and Merlin clutched his chest as his breaths came in painful gasps. His eyes stung with tears; his vision was blurred and hazy, and his whole body felt like it was throbbing. A soft, pained whimper escaped him, and he felt another hand on his other shoulder.

"Merlin, listen to me. Take deep breaths. Understand?"

The warlock closed his eyes, feeling his body shaking like a leaf in the autumn winds, and tried to focus on the directing voice, on his breathing. His trembling fingers tightened around the soft material of his shirt, and he inhaled through his mouth before he exhaled through his nose.

"Slowly now. In. Out. In. Out. Good."

It took several minutes, but the warlock's heart rate slowed and the throbbing feeling subdued to a dull ache. Feeling utterly exhausted, Merlin let his shaking hand fall from his chest and allowed his heavy head to fall onto his friend's broad shoulder as his body went limp. A strong hand settled on the nape of his neck, intertwining with his dark hair comfortingly.

"There you go," Arthur consoled. "Relax. It's okay. You're alright."

The warlock focused on his breathing and on Arthur's voice, which anchored him when flashes of his nightmare crept back into his line of vision. Merlin shivered, cold chills running down his spine as a bead of sweat ran down the small of his back. The detective pulled his friend close, muttering soft reassurances into his ear as the hail continued to beat relentlessly on the window.

Another loud rumble of thunder resounded through the room, and Merlin flinched, eyes snapping open in fear as he tensed. Arthur, however, only pulled him closer, setting his hand on the top of Merlin's head and pressing it into his shoulder before warm tears slipped from the warlock's eyes and onto his neck.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Arthur shushed him, gently rocking him back and forth. "It's okay, Merlin. It's alright. Everything's alright. It's just thunder. I promise. It's just a storm."

"But I—"

"No, Merlin, it's alright," Arthur interrupted, rubbing small circles in his friend's back. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's alright. It's okay. I'm here."

A few more large tears fell from his thick lashes as Merlin clung to his friend, and it took ten more minutes of just sitting there—because the storm was ignorant to the warlock's suffering and sent more claps of thunder to upset him—for Merlin to calm down and get used to the growling sky. He pulled back, releasing a long, shaky breath before he wiped his stinging eyes with the palm of his hand. Arthur just sat there, patiently waiting for the warlock to collect himself.

"How'd—how'd you get in here?" Merlin questioned, sniffing.

A small smile flickered on the detective's lips. "Iris came to get me."

"What...?" The warlock looked around, finding a dark shadow against his bedspread. "Come here, girl," he whispered. Immediately, Iris lunged forward, whining softly as she covered Merlin's face with wet kisses. Merlin laughed, gently pushing her down while scratching her head.

"She must have sensed you were having a nightmare," Arthur replied. "I guess she got out through the dog-door you installed, and I left my door open, so she—"

"Why?"

"Why'd I leave my door open?" The warlock nodded; Arthur's eyes softened, and the detective met his friend's inquisitive gaze with a small smile. "Because I knew it was supposed to storm tonight, and I thought that... _this _might happen."

Merlin's gaze fell, but the former king could see his friend biting his lip. After a moment, the warlock's eyes met his once more, and he said, "Thank you, Arthur. Really. It... Thank you."

The blond gave him a small nod, asking softly, "Do you want to talk about it? It might help."

Iris settled down beside the warlock, her muzzle against her owner's hip. Merlin looked back down, this time at his hands, before he glanced up at Arthur. There was raw pain written in his eyes, a deep vulnerability that the detective couldn't begin to understand, but Merlin nodded minutely. Arthur shifted into a more comfortable position, folding his legs underneath him as he sat directly in front of his best friend.

"It..." Merlin took a deep breath, his hand already beginning to knead the fabric of his tee. He glanced up at Arthur, allowing his mind to retrace his nightmare's path, but not allowing it to delve too deeply. "It started out with these two guys I used to travel with. Back in the early sixteenth century. William and Lucas." Merlin smiled, feeling a fondness within his chest for them. "Really good guys. Brilliant. Funny." His voice broke, and he tried to cover it with a cough. It didn't fool Arthur, but he didn't call him out on it.

"Anyway, we were... Um, we were in Scotland, if I remember correctly. In Aberdeen, just on the coast of the North Sea. Well, I don't know... We were attacked, just as we were going to leave for France. They were going to kill us. We knew that. There was no mercy in their eyes. And I... I told them to run," he breathed, voice hollow and thick at the same time. "There were at least twenty, and I told them to _run,_ to get on the boat. To _go."_

"Merlin, hey, it's alright," Arthur soothed.

The warlock closed his eyes, clenching his fist at his side as he exhaled. He nodded in response, biting the inside of his cheek. "They refused. The idiots. They didn't want me fighting on my own."

"Did they... did they know? About you? About your magic?"

Merlin bobbed his head, continuing. "They were on either side of me, but I... I should have done something. The bandits, or whoever they were, they... They ran William through. And I was so caught up in that, my mind racing to find a way to save him that I missed the arrow that... embedded itself in Lucas' heart. I watched... I watched them bleed out onto the ground, _dying_. The others were laughing, and I just... I was next. I_ knew_ I was. No matter what I did... I was in shock. My two friends had just... They ran me through."

The detective tensed, clenching his teeth. "What happened?"

"My magic... Um, when... Sometimes when I was injured... like _that,_" he raised his eyebrow, looking pointedly at Arthur so he knew what he meant, "my magic takes over; it... transports me to somewhere safe."

"Where'd it take you?"

"Where it always does: Lake Avalon. The only place in the world that's safe for me. There's a perception filter around the whole lake. Anything that happens... magically, at least, isn't really there. People don't even see the island or the monument. My body healed itself on the shore."

The warlock's hazy eyes snapped back to the present, back to Arthur, to see deep concern written on his face and Merlin knew they'd be having another serious conversation later. "But, um, after I was... you know, my dream changed. It was... It was, um..."

"Merlin?"

He swallowed past the thick lump in his throat, remembering the one death he never truly recovered from. Liquid glazed his eyes. "It was _you._ When you died. It played through my mind like a movie. It was so vivid, and I... I couldn't..." He looked away, sniffing. "Then it changed, and it was me, dying in your arms when I was shot. And our words... "Stay with me," just kept replaying in my mind. And the _parallels_, Arthur, they... They make it so much worse. So much worse." He laughed hollowly. "Fifteen hundred years and those three words are still ringing in my head. I don't know how many times I've watched people die, watched my friends die—watched _you _die. I'm—".

"No," Arthur said strongly. "Don't you dare say you're sorry, Merlin. I told you: I do not blame you for what happened. Not one molecule in my whole being holds a grudge against you. You might not have been able to save me physically, but you saved Camelot; you saved my heart, my dreams. I don't regret that day, Merlin, and I don't regret one word I said. And I'm here now," he placated. "That's all that matters. We can't change the past, old friend. We can only make the present worth living and build towards the future. Remember that."

Merlin's mouth opened, but when nothing came out and more tears began to build in his eyes, the detective leaned forward, wrapping his friend in a tight embrace. "We can't change the past, but I swear to everything, Merlin, that I'll help you get through it. I'm just next door. Whenever you need me, or you want to talk... about _anything. Please._ Even if it's three in the morning... I promise."

The warlock didn't respond, but a soft sob racked his body, and his arms came up behind Arthur, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he pulled him close. He didn't apologize for his tears this time, or for not being able to save his best friend; he just cried. And cried. And cried. Because it had been too long since he'd had a shoulder to cry on. Because it had been too long since he'd been able to release all his angst from his past lives. Because it had been _too damn long_ since he'd had a proper friend to take care of him.

The thunderstorm slowly calmed; the thunder settling to a light grumbling before disappearing altogether. The hail stopped in time with the thunder, and though the rain continued, it became more relaxing and calming, refreshing.

Merlin's tears slowed as exhaustion rolled through him, and he felt his puffy eyelids grow heavy against Arthur's shoulders. They slid shut of their own accord, and his breathing slowed and slowed as his body relaxed.

"Merlin?"

The warlock didn't answer but to let of a small grunt into Arthur's neck. The detective let out a small chuckle, setting his hands on his friend's shoulders and slowly pushing him backwards. Arthur twisted his hips and slid off the bed, gently lowering his best friend's head into his pillow. Merlin sighed contently while Arthur ran his hands over the warlock's scalp in a calming motion, smiling gently at the peaceful look on his face.

"Nihtslæe, freówines," he muttered softly into Merlin's ear.(1)

Little Iris cuddled against Merlin on his other side, nuzzling his hip before she found a comfortable place to sleep. Arthur reached over and scratched the lab behind her floppy ear.

"Thank you for getting me, Iris."

She protested when the detective pulled his hand away, and Arthur let out a soft chuckle, running his hand once more through Merlin's thick hair. His best friend... his _brother,_ had lost so much, lived through so many horrors... Fifteen hundred years of pain and suffering.

Arthur was set in his viewpoint; Merlin shouldn't be apologizing. _He_ should. He should have listened to Merlin: all those times when the warlock, his magic still unknown, had warned him, pleaded with him to change his mind in his decisions. But Arthur had been so arrogant, so assuming, so _blinded_ by his own beliefs... his father and then his uncle micromanaging his life and his viewpoints, controlling him like a puppet on a string.

He should have _listened_.

Arthur leaned down, knowing full well that Merlin couldn't hear him, that he wouldn't respond. And the detective didn't want him to, either. He didn't want Merlin to try to refute his words because he _was _to blame. "I'm sorry, old friend."

The once-king exhaled before biting his lower lip and exiting the room, giving his sleeping warlock one last fond glance before he left, leaving the door open a crack. In Camelot, Merlin had been the one who was always there for him, no matter what, despite all the pain of hiding his true self. Well, now it was time for Arthur to be there for him. It was his turn to take care of his friend, no matter what.

He recalled the words he'd spoken to Merlin when he'd been hospitalized: _"I'll be here as long as you need me."_

Arthur had never been more honest in his life. The warlock needed him, and the detective knew that. Maybe that was the reason he'd come back—to be here for Merlin. Well, no matter what happened, Arthur would do his very best, no matter what the future, the present, or the past threw at them, help the warlock heal.

Merlin was his best friend, after all.

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(1) Old English: Nihtslæe _(sleep during the night)_, freówines _(noble friend)._

I don't know whether or not to apologize for the cheese or not. I wasn't sure how else to end it, really. ;) Anyway, I hope this makes up for the delay. I'm still writing, very slowly, but surely. Unfortunately, the Captain America fandom has _definitely_ captured my attention, so I'm also working on stuff for that fandom, too. Honestly, guys, the _storyline..._

Lastly, I hope you guys enjoyed this. :) G'night!


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